Chapter Four
It would help if I could just find him. It was yet another night without sleep, and Arrow found himself hunched over his laptop at two in the morning, aimlessly searching through Google Maps, trying to get some indication of where Flint was.
He knew, or rather he’d been informed frequently in the past week, that assassins lived private lives, and their addresses were only known to their handlers.
Arrow hadn’t missed the amount of respect his colleagues had for those who did the dirty work, and that didn’t make him feel any better for the way he’d treated Flint.
If they ever found out…Yeah, Arrow would be shunned and likely fired, and that’s always assuming he didn’t just disappear with no one giving a shit or trying to find him.
I made a mistake, but I can’t fix it if I can’t find him. Cyrus has to be the key - there has to be something…
He zoomed in on the area around Cyrus’s workshop, fingers trembling slightly as he manipulated the satellite view.
The workshop sat alongside the main road, and there was a bakery and some other shops on the same block.
Arrow couldn’t see any obvious signs of housing - just some scattered farmhouses miles down the road.
But what about behind the workshop? Arrow’s pulse quickened, clicking his mouse and moving the cursor away from the road.
There…behind the workshop, deeper into the forest, the satellite imagery showed what looked like a cluster of buildings.
Old structures, maybe? Could people be living there?
Arrow checked the date on the Google Maps image, but it was a few years old.
Switching to historical records, Arrow cross-referenced land deeds and property ownership.
Bingo. He pointed at the screen. The entire tract of land running from the workshop back into the forest belonged to Cyrus.
Company records listed it as purchased ten years ago from a defunct logging operation.
Arrow pulled up older images, the kind hobbyists uploaded to historical preservation sites.
His patience paid off when he found an old, faded photograph labeled “Big Sky Lumber Settlement, 1960s.” From what Arrow could see in the grainy images there were six houses arranged around what used to be a sawmill - worker housing for the loggers who’d operated in the area.
That has to be where they are. Flint has to live in one of those houses. It all made sense when Arrow thought about it. Most handlers didn’t live anywhere near their assassins, and from the rumors Arrow heard around the agency, most assassins were loners who kept to themselves.
But Arrow remembered the way Cyrus and Python had talked about Flint and how his assassin friends would protect him, too, as if he was their friend, and part of their family. It was clear that if Cyrus had the means to provide housing for the men he looked out for…It would be on his land!
His wolf surged forward, Arrow’s hands shifting before he could stop them, claws clicking against the keyboard. He forced the change back with a shuddering breath, sweat breaking out across his forehead.
Jack’s words from earlier rattled in his skull: You look like hell, man. Whatever’s eating you, fix it before it destroys you.
Arrow hadn’t told Jack the full truth. How could he explain that he’d met his mate and promptly treated him like a piece of meat?
That every hour away from Flint felt like someone was slowly peeling his skin off?
That his wolf wanted to tear through the agency building just to find one small blond snake shifter and never let him go?
He’d tried doing things the right way, at least in his head. He’d texted Cyrus and had come close to begging when he asked for advice. “Work it out for yourself” wasn’t helpful.
But maybe it was. Uncaring that it was still dark out and that Arrow was expected to be at work in about four hours, he got up, dressed, flicked his fingers through his hair, and grabbed his keys. Fine then, this is me working it out.
/~/~/~/~/
The side road leading to the back of Cyrus’s property turned to gravel after the first mile, then to dirt.
Arrow parked his sedan behind a stand of trees where it wouldn’t be visible from the main road, killed the engine, and sat in the dark for a long moment, reassessing his life choices.
The practical part of his brain screamed at him that stalking someone on their own property was stupid and potentially career-ending.
But Arrow was getting desperate enough that his career’s importance really wasn’t registering.
Flint has to be here. Arrow could feel it in his bones, in the way his wolf paced and snarled inside his chest. I just need to see him, just for a minute.
He stripped out of his suit - no point in ruining it by hiking through the woods - and left his clothes folded on the driver’s seat. The shift came easily, his wolf eager to hunt, to track, and to find their mate.
Four paws hit the dirt, and Arrow’s senses exploded. The forest smelled alive with the scents of pine, damp earth, and small creatures moving through the underbrush. He shook out his coat and started moving through the trees, following a faint trail that led deeper onto Cyrus’s land.
The pull grew stronger the farther he went. Not the mating bond exactly, but an instinct that told him he was getting closer to where Flint had been, where Flint lived, where Flint’s scent would be strongest.
The settlement appeared gradually through the trees.
There were six houses arranged in a rough semicircle, larger than Arrow had expected from the satellite images.
They were also showing signs that someone maintained them - they were all freshly painted and looked almost new.
At the other end of the semicircle sat the old sawmill, its weathered wood looking solid despite the years.
And there - Arrow’s wolf nearly howled with triumph, but he was trying to be stealthy - a large wooden sign carved with images. A bear. Two bulls. A crocodile. A snake, and finally a huge demon, complete with horns and a tail.
It’s here. They’ve actually called it Assassin’s Alley.
That meant Flint lived in one of these houses. That small blond cutie with the huge eyes and perfect lips had a home that was as cute as he was.
Arrow padded forward, nose to the ground, searching for the specific scent that had haunted him since that bar. Clean and sharp like fresh-cut grass and something uniquely Flint that made Arrow’s wolf whine with need.
Got it! The trail led to a smaller house with a greenhouse visible behind it.
Arrow’s heart hammered against his ribs, and he couldn’t stop panting.
Flint’s scent was everywhere - on the porch steps, on a huge rock set out in front of the house, around the greenhouse…
Flint had been there within the past two days.
Arrow could smell the faint trace of strawberries and other vegetables, but it was Flint’s scent that stood out the strongest.
Arrow couldn’t hear any sign of life coming from the house, but maybe snakes were quiet. He was so focused on the door, on trying to figure out how to shift back to human form and knock, that he didn’t realize he had company until it was too late.
“Well, well.” The voice came from behind him, low and amused. “What do we have here?”
Arrow spun around, his four feet scrabbling on the porch.
A massive man - a crocodile shifter - stood ten feet away, arms crossed over a chest the size of a barrel.
He was wearing a tank top and shorts despite the cool morning air.
With his dark hair and chiseled features, he was someone who would’ve attracted Arrow’s attention in a club situation, although his expression, suggesting he’d be perfectly happy crushing Arrow’s skull, wasn’t attractive.
“You heard him, too?” Another voice, this one deeper. A bear shifter - huge, blond, professor-looking despite the early hour - emerged from between the houses. “Smells like wolf, acts like a dog.”
“Smells like agency wolf.” A third man appeared, this one nearly as large as the bear but built differently. Bull shifter, Arrow realized with growing dread. Horns were already starting to manifest along his temples.
“What’s an agency wolf doing sniffing around Flint’s house?” The crocodile took a step closer. His eyes had gone reptilian, vertical pupils fixed on Arrow with unsettling focus.
Arrow backed up, his wolf suddenly becoming very aware that he was one canine surrounded by three much larger predators. He tried to shift, to explain, but the change wouldn’t come. Fear had his animal form locked in place.
“We could just kill it.” The bull shifter cracked his knuckles. “Toss the body in the woods. No one would know.”
“Levi.” The bear’s voice held a note of caution. “Let’s not be hasty.”
“Why not? This is our land, our home. Some asshole wolf comes creeping around when Flint’s not even here?” The bull - Levi - gestured at Arrow with disgust. “Sounds like a problem that needs solving, and problem solving’s what we do.”
Arrow’s heart hammered so hard he thought his ribs might crack. He tried again to shift and managed to get his front paws to hands before Storm moved faster than anything that large should be able to move, pinning Arrow against Flint’s front door with one massive hand around his furry throat.
“Shift,” Storm growled. “Now. Before I decide, Levi’s right.”
The change ripped through Arrow in a painful rush. He materialized naked and pinned against his mate’s door, Storm’s hand still locked around his windpipe.
“I…” Arrow choked out. “I’m…”
“Trespassing, that’s what you’re doing.” Storm’s eyes were still more crocodile than human. “On my friend’s property. While he’s not here to defend himself. Give me one good reason I shouldn’t tear your throat out.”
“Mate.” Arrow managed to gasp. “Flint. He’s my mate.”
Storm’s grip tightened. “Yeah? The mate who treated him like a piece of meat? That mate?”